


catboy elias gets the spray bottle for being a horrible little man

by JackyM



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Catboy Elias Bouchard, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Elias Bouchard eats flies, Gen, I hate both of these men so much., THIS ENTIRE FIC IS A JOKE DON'T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY FHGHGHG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyM/pseuds/JackyM
Summary: Nyan nyan, he's a big boy, nyan. :3c
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Peter Lukas, if you wanna call this lonelyeyes I GUESS you can but it isn't not really
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	catboy elias gets the spray bottle for being a horrible little man

**Author's Note:**

> Catboy Elias vexes and haunts me, so you can imagine how I feel right now after writing this. I have taken so much psychic damage and I wrote this in like, an hour and a half, tops. I hate these men so much. I hope this is funny because otherwise it's just going to be capable of hexing people fhghghg.

Peter had never been fond of cats. 

He’d never been fond of animals at all, really. Not just cats. He never had them growing up, and was certain he wouldn’t have appreciated them, either. As an adult his lifestyle was little more than an excuse. Simply put, he found the presence of animals, especially pets, irritating. A creature whose sole purpose was to seek companionship was, in a word, abhorrent. Like something simultaneously slimy and hairy hacked up sloppily on the carpet. Except it was something simultaneously slimy and hairy that also constantly followed him around, needing attention and care. Neither of which Peter was prone to giving other human beings, let alone animals. 

This was indeed a ridiculous circumstance that nobody in their right mind could fault him for not foreseeing. The phrase “neither man nor beast” does not apply to beastmen, though it would have been outrageously strange for Peter to make an exception in this ridiculous circumstance due to that technicality. And Peter was perfectly comfortable to continue not making an exception, and ignore Elias the way he usually did. 

Except, that was impossible, because beastmen have the qualities of beasts, and of men, and they use both of those qualities to their worst, most aggravating potential. 

“It’s worth a small fortune, Elias.”

Elias made no attempt to move, and the consideration to move had made no attempt to cross his mind. His eyes were closed, and thank god, because Peter didn’t know how long he could deal with those creepy little things staring daggers into him whilst Elias made a mess of his fifth most expensive coat. Speaking of which, Elias was splayed across it like a dead mosquito on a windshield, and Peter could say with almost absolute certainty that it was getting more and more covered in cat hair by the millisecond. 

“It’s already ruined, Elias. It was ruined the second you decided to sleep on it. I truly don’t understand how you can even get that much hair on it when you aren’t even covered in it.”

Elias opened his eyes slowly, like an automated garage door opening up to a garage that’s full of clowns about to pelt an unsuspecting garage user with a bunch of creme pies, which is one of the most tantalizing ambushes known to man due to its rarity. Quite unlike Elias deciding to look at people, because he did that a lot. So nothing like an automated garage door opening up to a garage full of clowns about to pelt an unsuspecting garage user with a bunch of creme pies, actually. 

Peter however did not reflect on the accuracy of likening Elias to pie-hurling harlequins, and instead made the much more resolute decision to try and pull his coat out from underneath Elias as soon as Elias tried starting an impromptu staring contest. This proved ineffective. Despite being described as, on the most medically scientific terms, “a nasty little manlet”, Elias was distributing roughly the same amount of weight as a PT Cruiser. Peter sighed and stopped trying and instead simply tried pushing Elias off his coat. Elias remained as easy to knock over as a large car.

“OwO? This is a laughably ineffective coat pulling attempt, Peter Lukas.”

“Evidently. I was under the impression you cared about efficiency.”

“This is _efficient_ , though admittedly it is certainly a less entertaining kind of efficiency when _you_ decide to resort to solving issues with brute physicality. It throws the whole formula off.”

“Your formula for being a general nuisance to me is incredibly effective, then. Move. Or I will resort to even more brute physicality, Elias.”

“I would advise against that.”

Asking why was surely exactly what Elias wanted, but Peter needed a small amount of time to get ready his ultimate show of brute physicality. So he sighed and asked, “why, Elias?”

Elias stretched out on Peter’s coat, almost certainly covering it, somehow, with even more old cat hair and old musk. He held this position for a moment and was too lost in the smugsauce to hear Peter filling up the spray bottle, which was sort of funny, because cat ears lend themselves to incredible hearing. “Because I’m just a cute little kitty, and it just so happens to be my birthday.”

“I know for a fact that it is not your birthday.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is, and you are being awfully rude to me, on my birthday.”

“My sincerest apologies, then,” said Peter, surreptitiously approaching Elias with a spray bottle, “for...ruining your birthday.”

Spraying Elias in the face was always gratifying, no matter how many times Peter had to do it. Elias pinned his cat ears back and made a noise that sounded kind of like those sinks with a waste disposal would make if they were full of Swedish meatballs. He wasted no time in jumping off of Peter’s coat and slapping Peter in the face with his tail as he did so. 

Upon inspection, Peter’s coat was definitely ruined, looking and smelling like a cat bed. If he was being completely rational, Peter could, admittedly, get it dry-cleaned, but that would mean having to talk to someone and potentially have to deal with a horrifying question like, “how big is your cat”, to which Peter did not have the peace of mind to even think about answering. For his part, Elias was nursing his spray bottle wound and was perched on the kitchen counter, licking his wrinkly little hand with his slimy little tongue and pulling his hand over his ears even though he easily could’ve just used a towel or something and could have been standing on the floor like a person. 

Peter had no interest in apologizing for resorting to the spray bottle, because he wasn’t sorry, and because he really wasn’t into the whole “making his feelings apparent” thing. Neither was sticking around any longer than he needed to. Peter had what he needed, and it was almost certainly not emotional closure with Elias Mewchard. Before Elias could reprimand Peter for (quite justifiably) spraying him, Peter Lukas did a classic Lukas move and noped into the Lonely before Elias could say anything else, using those sick Lonely noping skillz. 

Elias opened his mouth to speak, but upon noticing Peter Lukas was out of his sight in every sense of the word, he admitted to himself that the attempt was probably futile. Probably. So instead he jumped down from the counter and pounced on a dying fly on the floor, crushing it under his hands and then shoving it into his mouth, filling it with yellowish fly guts. He swallowed them with the same amount of taste-driven vigor he’d have given literally anything else and then made a beeline for the fridge, because there were probably more dead insects underneath it. 


End file.
